


Mend These Trends

by equivalent_exchange



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Near Death Experiences, Smut, Survivor Guilt, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24299779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equivalent_exchange/pseuds/equivalent_exchange
Summary: Din’s steps falter at the sight of Cara rocking the whimpering green child. Both still covered in soot and dirt from the cantina and lava tunnels. Even from a distance he can see the rips and tears in Cara’s clothes as well as the blood matting her skin underneath.He was so focused on getting the hell off the planet that it didn’t occur to check if they were injured.All three were worse for wear, physically and emotional drained from the events on Nevarro.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Cara Dune, Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 156





	1. But Be Near

**Author's Note:**

> Me back on my bullshit of starting another fic when I have three or four WIPs I should be focusing on.
> 
> This was suppose to be a short little one-shot. But are you surprised? Because I'm not. 😂
> 
> Set post-episode 8, if Din and Cara were already in a relationship.
> 
> This is really heavy on the feels and hurt/comfort.
> 
> Inspired by the song ["Mend These Trends"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xLHmIClpjjE) by South and the behind the scenes clips from the documentary series of helmetless Din!

The moment the Razor Crest jumps into hyperspace Din finally eases some of the tension squeezing his tired and aching body.

It takes all of his strength not to simply fall asleep right then and there in the pilot’s seat, body covered in cuts, bruises, and blood, begging for rest. With a pained grunt and slight limp, the Mandalorian makes his way out of the cockpit and down the ladder.

Din’s steps falter at the sight of Cara rocking the whimpering green child. Both still covered in soot and dirt from the cantina and lava tunnels. Even from a distance he can see the rips and tears in Cara’s clothes as well as the blood matting her skin underneath.

He was so focused on getting the hell off the planet that it didn’t occur to check if they were injured.

All three were worse for wear, physically and emotional drained from the events on Nevarro.

Limping over to the pair, the baby begins squirming in Cara’s hold once he catches sight of the familiar silver helmet. Sighing, she turns to her companion and gives him a once over before reluctantly placing the child in his arms.

Cara caresses the boy’s ear before bringing her eyes to Din, “We need to take care of your injuries then you need to get your ass into bed.”

“I know, I know… I just – I just need to hold him.” he tells her, his voice fading.

The Child’s eyes grow heavy as Din gently rocks his arms, their eventful day finally catching up to the little one.

The ex-soldier’s eyes soften at the pair, and she doesn’t argue. How can she?

Gideon wants the kid, nearly destroyed the entire town and killed countless lives in the attempt. Kuiil and IG-11 are dead and his Covert was massacred for helping them escape the first time.

So much death and destruction for this one child, and if they aren’t careful, they’ll be added to that list.

If holding each other gives them some comfort, then who was she to get in the way of that.

Cara walks to a corner of the room as she begins to strip off her armor and clothes, hissing at the wounds reopening as she lifts her arms. She can feel the burns seeping, can feel the blood running down her sides again from some of the deeper cuts.

It was painful, but she’d survive, _has_ survived much worse. Besides, she wasn’t the one that had a head injury.

Din calls out, “Cara? Are you ok?” the concern is evident in his voice.

She manages to remove her shirt before facing him, nearly bare from the hips up, save for her bra. As soon as turns, she can feel his eyes zero in on the long-jagged bleeding gash on her side.

“It looks worse than it actually is. It’s just a flesh wound, so don’t look at me like that,” she says dismissively.

“Cara, that looks deep. We should at least put some bacta on it,” he tries to reason.

“We don’t have much left. You’re the one that needs it. I’ll just cauterize it if I need to. Don’t worry about me,” her tone final as she continues to undress.

Din sighs under his breath and shakes his head. He knows it’s useless to argue with her once she’s made up her mind.

Taking a seat on one of the crates against the wall, Din leans back while still rocking the baby. He’s still awake, just barely, but the little one refuses to take his eyes off the silver helmet.

The Mandalorian tries another approach with Cara, knowing she’ll be more agreeable to a compromise.

“Why don’t you shower first then? The kid should be asleep when you’re finished and then I’ll clean up after?”

She’s looking at him now, taking in the droop of his shoulders and his dirty armor. The once shining metal is darkened with scorch marks and scratches. There are several tears and burnt patches in his clothes, showcasing the bruises and burns. She’s only just now noticing the missing thigh plate of his right leg.

Cara swallows back the bitter bile threatening to rise in her throat.

He must’ve lost it in the explosion.

Seating herself in front of the pair, Cara leans forward, and caresses the Child’s wrinkled green head.

“C’mon kid. Everything’s ok now, so why don’t you sleep so we can get cleaned up and get some nice deserved rest?” she asks quietly.

Din’s eyes travel across what he can see of her body as she leans over, she’s dressed only in her underwear now, and he can plainly see the discoloration from the numerous bruises, cuts, and burns. The jagged cut along her side is still bleeding but has slowed considerably.

For the most part, she looks ok, and for that he’s glad.

He sighs in relief and gently reminds her, “We’ll be fine. Go on, get cleaned up,” pointing his head towards the fresher.

Eyeing him one last time, she sighs and rises to her feet, “Ok, but I’ll be quick. We need to get you patched up.”

It’s only when Din hears the shower running does he let out the pained grunt he’s been holding back.

Looking down to his arms, the baby is finally asleep and softly snoring. As he scans the room for his carrier, Din realizes that it was lost in the cantina, and another pang of guilt squeezes him.

Kuiil’s gift to the Child is gone.

Pushing a few buttons on his vambrace, Din activates the old metal container he was using as the baby’s bed previously. He carefully places the sleeping child into the box and tucks him in, ensuring he’ll be warm and comfortable.

Cara will be done soon, and as much as he wants to just strip off his armor and crawl into their bunk, he knows he needs to wash off the blood, sweat, and grime and properly assess his injuries. IG’s bacta spray had taken care of his head wound, but he can still feel the stickiness matting his hair and the back of his head.

Truth be told, Din has no idea what he even looks like right now, but he can feel and smell the blood on his face, taste it in mouth whenever he swallows. He probably looks like he’s at death’s door.

As much as it upset Cara when he stopped her from removing his helmet, he knew it was the right choice. If he looks as horrible as he feels, he wouldn’t want her to remember him like that, practically dead in her hands with a face covered in blood and tears.

No. He didn’t want that. Not for her or the kid.

\----

As if on cue, the fresher door hisses and Cara steps out, dressed in her sleeveless shirt and her underwear. He can see her hair is still wet and her skin still damp from the way the thin top is sticking to her.

She pads across the room, her bare feet silent as she makes her way towards him.

“Your turn. Let’s get you out of that armor. No arguments,” she warns him.

Humming his agreement, Din leans forward and she helps him slowly remove his armor and munitions, lightly setting the pieces on the table next to them.

His clothes are next, and he can’t hide the small cry of pain when he raises his arms to pull the long-sleeved shirt over his head. Din’s right shoulder is swollen, and his ribs are an alarming mixture of red and purple splotches.

Cara runs her fingers over the bruises on his ribs, “Are they broken? How’s your breathing?”

Pulling her fingers away, Din takes her hand in his and squeezes, silently telling her that he was ok.

After his boots and pants are pulled off, he’s left sitting on the crate in nothing but his boxer briefs and helmet. With careful fingers, Cara gently prods the giant bruise on his right calf, checking him for any more surprises.

Din thinks he hears her mutter something under her breath about an idiot, and despite the seriousness of the situation, it brings a smile to his face. He has someone that cares enough about him to be here now, to help mend his injuries.

Someone that he cares about too.

If their positions were reversed, he knows without a doubt that he would be the one taking care of her, ensuring she was safe and comfortable.

Cara calls out to him quietly, “Din…your helmet? Do you – can I?”

His eyes soften at her expression of fear and worry, and he hates that he’s the reason for it.

Nodding his head almost imperceptibly, he agrees.

He sits up straighter on the crate as she scoots closer now on her seat, situating one knee between his so she can reach him easily. Cara carefully places her hands on either side of his helmet, and pulls the metal slowly, resting it on the table with the rest of his battle worn armor.

It takes Din a moment to adjust to the ship’s light without his helmet, and the first thing he sees is Cara biting her trembling lip. Her eyes are shining brighter now with the tears she’s holding back.

Before he can say something, anything, she brings her hand to cup his cheek, her thumb caressing him ever so slightly, careful to avoid the numerous cuts littering his face.

Cara feels more than hears Din sigh as he closes his eyes and presses into her palm, seeking her warmth and comfort now that his last barrier has been removed. Gingerly, he covers her hand with his own, fingers curling and his own thumb caressing her.

She takes him in, all the blood and dirt caked to his features. His hair is tangled and matted with sweat and blood. There are numerous cuts along his face and deep gash on the bridge of his nose. The blood from his nosebleed is dried and staining his upper lip, and from the looks of it, a split lip as well.

The most worrisome is the dried blood coming from his ears, and it didn’t occur to her to check his hearing earlier. Being so close to an explosion might have ruptured his eardrums. He seemed to hear well enough, but what if there was lasting damage?

Finally summoning the courage, she asks, “Din, your head. I know IG gave you a bacta infusion, but can you see alright? And – and your hearing?”

Opening his eyes, he meets her inquiring gaze and can see the barely concealed emotion on her face.

“My sight is fine, for a little while things were a bit blurry, but it’s ok now. I – I can still hear a faint ringing, but I can hear you,” he replies honestly.

Nodding, she explains, “I think I remember seeing an extra medpac in the emergency kit. I’ll give you the medpac now, and I’ll clean you up a bit while we wait for the meds to kick in and then you can shower. Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

Cradling Din’s face in her hands, she leans forward and places a kiss to his forehead, lingering against the skin. His eyes slide shut at the sensation of her soft lips on him.

He doesn’t know how her simple touch has the power to nearly take all the pain and ache away, to make him feel like there was nothing else in the galaxy except the two of them, together. Nobody else has ever made him feel this way, and in the back of his mind, he doesn’t think anyone else ever will.

They never talked about _this_ , this thing between them.

It was something they stumbled into, at first it was unnerving, how natural and easy it was to be with her. The small touches and longing glances they shared eventually evolved into his skin on hers, their heady breathes and whispers and moans filling the lonely silence in the night.

Before he knew it, one pillow on his bunk became two. Her voice the last thing he hears before falling asleep, and the first thing he hears when he wakes.

He was _happy_.

Her voice pulls him from his reverie, whispering, “I’ll be right back,” as she rises and moves around the ship to retrieve her supplies.

Din watches her step back into the fresher and comes back with both the emergency first aid kit and a wet towel in her hands.

Taking her seat once more, her face is focused as she moves the scanner over him, double checking his injuries, making sure she didn’t miss anything in her first assessment. Satisfied, she replaces the scanner with a medpac. Looking to Din, he nods his consent, and hisses under his breath as the plunger floods his system with bacta. The effect is almost immediate, after the initial sting, he slowly feels the worst of the pain begin to fade away, leaving behind an ache and the occasional sharp pain when he moves the wrong way.

They know the medpac will only do so much, it’s only a low dose, but it was better than nothing.

“How are you feeling now?” she asks. One of her hands is on his knee, gently rubbing little circles on his skin as a gesture of comfort and support.

Din feels some of the tightness in his right shoulder loosening, “Better now, thank you,” he sighs.

“Good. Now let’s clean up that filthy mug of yours while the medpac does its magic, then you can shower.”

He makes a sound of agreement and he scoots to the edge of the crate, noting that Cara does the same. One of her legs is between his again, and Din can’t help but rest a hand there, drawing small shapes into her soft and smooth flesh like she did for him.

Din doesn’t think anyone has ever shown him as much tenderness and care as she is right now, carefully cupping his face with one hand and cleaning his blood with the other. She’s being as delicate as she can, doing her best to avoid aggravating his wounds. He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes or for how long, her soothing touch filling him with a warmth that even the most potent bacta couldn’t compare.

Sitting there, the Mandalorian wonders if he’ll ever be able to tell the ex-trooper that he loves her.

Throughout his entire life, he’s never been in love with anyone. Nobody else has ever stayed long enough for him to care this deeply, and now that he has someone, _her_ , he can’t let go.

He swallows down the realization that Cara and the baby are all he has left. Nearly everyone he’s ever cared for is gone now, and he can’t bear the thought of losing them too.

Cara feels the same, he’s almost certain of it, she wouldn’t be here otherwise. But he wonders if she’s just as afraid as he is to say it. Because once you’ve acknowledged it, like he did, given it a name, then it has its own form of sweet torture.

\----

It doesn’t take her long to wipe away most of the blood. When she sets the soiled towel on the table with his armor, Din’s surprised to see just how much blood he was covered in.

“I couldn’t get everything, but it looks like most of these should heal fine on their own,” Cara says, lightly tracing the cut on his lip with a featherlight touch.

Din takes her hand and presses his lips to palm in a tender kiss, “Thank you.”

Cara’s never seen that look in his eyes before, the vulnerability and raw emotion is so intense that she can nearly drown in it. From the moment she handed the baby to him earlier, she felt the change in the air between them. She can feel it in the way that he touches her, like a reminder that she’s still here with him.

A reassurance she didn’t leave him behind.

The next thing she knows, he’s kissing her, a gentle touch of his lips to hers that leaves her breathless. It’s not hurried or desperate, it’s slow and tender and full of the emotion she knows he can’t verbalize.

A thank you.

_A promise._

Her hands come to rest in his tangled hair and back of his neck as she returns his kiss with as much force as she dares, weary of his injuries. The grip on her knees tells her that he’s trying to control himself too, nearly bursting at the whirlwind of emotions within him. With a stuttering breath Din pulls back, and it’s only a brief moment before he rests his forehead against hers. They’re both still trying to regain their composure, unsure of where to go from here, but at the same time seeking the solace and comfort only they can give each other.

With a kiss to the corner of Din’s lips, Cara whispers, “Go get cleaned up, take your time. I’ll be here, and then we can go to bed.”

Din gives a small nod before rising, reluctant to part with her warmth.

Cara watches as he makes his way to the fresher, the door sliding shut behind him. As soon as he’s out of sight, she tries to take slow deep calming breaths, her emotions getting the best of her now. She was barely able to keep it together when she removed his helmet, her stomach dropping at the sight of his bloody face looking back at her.

During her time as a soldier, she’s seen more of her comrades die than she’d care to admit, sat by their side as they took their last breaths, the pain and fear in their eyes forever etched into her memory.

Always haunted by the fact that she had to leave them behind.

Holding Din in that fiery cantina, Cara was afraid: for him, for the baby, for herself. He was dying, begging them to go and leave him so they can escape. She could tell by the way he gripped her hand that he was losing strength. His hands were normally so strong and steady and precise, but all she could feel was how he was barely able to hold onto her, the dark pool of blood beneath his helmet growing and staining his cloak as she looked on in horror.

It took everything she had to leave him there with IG, to leave his fate in the hands of a droid he despised, almost like a betrayal. If it came down to it, she knows she would’ve died there with him.

But she had a promise to keep.

Protect the Child, no matter what.

If the situation was reversed, if she was the one bleeding out on that dirty floor, she knows that she’d make the same decision – tell him to take the baby and get the hell out as fast as possible and don’t look back.

As much as it hurts, she _understands_.

It’s in that understanding of his decision that makes her chest ache. It would be easier to be angry, to find fault in it, but they both know that it’s always a possibility. If one of them died, what other choice is there than to pick up the pieces and carry on?

Neither ever talk about it, what they mean to each other. Cara is a woman of few words, and Din is a man of even fewer. They’re both people who express their feelings and thoughts through action and heavily veiled sarcasm.

But she knows, and he does, too.

She loves him.

There is no doubt in her mind that she loves him with everything she is, both him and the baby. The three of them were practically a family in everything but name. They somehow found each other in this tangled mess of a galaxy and managed to make a home together.

A home that Din almost didn’t come back to.

With a frustrated sob, Cara hunches over sitting atop the crate, holding her head in hands while she tries in vain to hold back the tears beginning to spill down her cheeks.


	2. Ways I Can't Explain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s all catching up to him now, the death and destruction, the grief and uncertainty.
> 
> The guilt.
> 
> Turning the shower onto its hottest setting, Din removes his underwear and steps under the scorching spray. Closing his eyes, he prays for some semblance of peace of mind, even just for a moment, but now that he’s alone and the adrenaline and physical pain are beginning to ebb away, the feelings he’s been pushing aside are rearing their ugly heads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life keeps getting in the way, as usual. I wanted to get this up much sooner, but as I was writing, more and more ideas popped up, and as always, my dumbass couldn't ignore them.
> 
> There was just sooo much I wanted to put into the finale, but couldn't fit, so in a move that shocks nobody (except myself), I had to add another chapter. Yay?
> 
> As mentioned at the end notes of the previous chapter, there's some smut in this, but I'm sure nobody minds.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

As soon as the fresher door slides shut behind him, Din moves to stand in front of the mirror. He’s finally able to see himself for the first time since leaving the mess of Nevarro behind them. His face is mostly cleaned of blood, but unfortunately Cara couldn’t wipe away the cuts and bruises peppering his body.

Even he’s surprised by the damage.

Putting a hand to his ribs, he tries to inhale as deeply as he can, but the dull throb turns into a sharp pain, making him nearly see stars dance in front of eyes. His shoulder isn’t so bothersome, now that the bacta has kicked in, the swelling is minimal but the tightness in the muscles are still there, making a mental note to stretch out the joint later on. To be honest, using the grappling hook to attach to Gideon’s TIE fighter was the only way to catch up to him, but how he didn’t rip his entire arm from its socket in the process was probably sheer dumb luck. It’s definitely not something he would be trying again anytime soon, not if he can help it.

The gashes on his nose and lip look worse than they are, but the image of Cara’s face after removing his helmet…

She was barely able to hold back her tears, and the mere thought of it forms a thick knot in his stomach.

It’s all catching up to him now, the death and destruction, the grief and uncertainty.

The _guilt_.

Turning the shower onto its hottest setting, Din removes his underwear and steps under the scorching spray. Closing his eyes, he prays for some semblance of peace of mind, even just for a moment, but now that he’s alone and the adrenaline and physical pain are beginning to ebb away, the feelings he’s been pushing aside are rearing their ugly heads.

Thankfully Greef came out mostly unscathed. While not his favorite person in the galaxy, the Guild leader had proven himself by helping to protect the little one. Maybe in time, Din might consider the older man a friend.

But Kuiil and IG-11 are dead. The Ugnaught had just wanted a quiet and peaceful life on his farm with his droid and blurrg, but the moment Din and the baby stepped back into his life, he might as well have been marked for death. With everything Kuiil and IG had sacrificed for the Mandalorian and the Child, all they could offer was their thanks, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

It probably never will.

Most of the Covert is dead, and Din hopes that some survived, that some were able to take the few foundlings they had and escape to safety.

But he’ll never really know, will he?

The pile of armor once belonging to his brothers and sisters are because of him – for the sin he committed when he chose the beskar over a baby, and for his greed, the Child and his Covert paid the price.

At least the Armorer had survived, and for that he is glad. If anyone was capable of such a feat in the face of an Imperial horde, it was her. But Din knows the chances of seeing her again are slim to none if she decides to leave Nevarro after salvaging the broken remains of their Covert.

A responsibility he should be shouldering instead.

\----

The sight of his blood mixing and swirling with the soapy water brings Din back to reality.

Carefully, he washes himself as fast as he can, eager for this day to be over. All he wants is to curl into bed with Cara after bidding his son goodnight.

_His son._

Laughing to himself, Din finds it humorous that after all of these months of caring for the boy, it’s the sight of the little womp rat hugging his leg after taking down the TIE fighter that cements his place in his heart. The boy isn’t just a foundling, he’s his _son._ In the back of his mind, he knew from the moment he rescued the green creature from the Imperial hideout that nothing would ever be the same.

As much as everyone around Din called the boy his son, he himself never said the words aloud, despite what he felt.

It was easier, to leave it unspoken, to leave so many things unspoken.

But now, he’s not so sure.

He is tasked with finding his son’s people, be it the Jedi or his own species, and if neither can be found, then he is to be raised in the Way. Din wants what’s best, but he honestly doesn’t know what that is. Both options have their own set of benefits and dangers, and he hopes that when the time comes, however far down the line, they choose what’s right.

Shaking his head to dispel this train of thought, Din turns off the shower and dries off with the first towel he can find. Thankfully he still has some clean underwear and foregoes his usual shirt and shorts, preferring to feel the air on his warm battered skin.

\----

Emerging from the fresher, he finds Cara in the galley, leaning against the sink and sipping from a glass with a faraway look in her eyes. When she realizes he’s moving towards her, he sees her flinch, almost as if she’s startled to see him coming.

Quickly reaching behind her, she hands him a glass filled with the same liquid as her own, “It’s just an electrolyte packet, figured you can use something to drink.”

Chuckling lightheartedly, he replies, “Thank you. I appreciate it,” accepting the glass, he gulps it down quickly and sighs in relief as the liquid soothes his parched throat.

Cara is still finishing her drink when Din sets his empty cup down, but as tired as he is, he can see how her cheeks are slightly flushed along with her red rimmed eyes.

Placing his hand on her cheek, he lovingly strokes the tattoo just under her eye. Mirroring her actions from earlier, Din brings his lips carefully to top of her forehead, pressing to her skin. She takes in stuttering breath, and his stomach sinks at the sound.

Taking her cup, Din places them in the sink and gently pulls Cara close, burying his nose in her hair and taking in her scent. His hands reach under her shirt to the find the warm soft skin of her waist, thumbs moving back and forth in a soothing gesture. The man can feel her uneven breaths on his neck, and his stomach sinks even further, swallowing the lump forming in his throat.

It’s only when he feels her arms loosely wrapping around his middle, does he feel comfortable enough to speak.

Whispering into her hair, he pleads, “Talk to me, Cara. Please.”

When he’s met with silence, it only serves to unnerve the Mandalorian further.

A few moments later, he feels it, the tears beginning to soak his bare skin, and his heart shatters. Cara’s breathing turns quick and shallow as she trembles in his hands.

His own breath hitching, Din wraps his arms around Cara’s back and nearly crushes her to him. The ache in his battered ribs intensifies the harder he grips her, but he pays no attention to it; her growing stream of tears wounding him so much deeper than any blaster ever could.

The sound of her muffled sobs forces him to squeeze his eyes shut, his own tears on the verge of spilling.

Din feels so helpless, gently rocking them back and forth as she quietly weeps in his arms. He knows that she’s been holding back her emotions, trying to be strong and keep everything together. Cara nearly fell apart when she removed his helmet earlier, seeing just how close he had danced with death terrified her, but she swallowed it down and soldiered on.

It was only a matter of time until she hit her breaking point.

He isn’t sure of how long they stand in the galley clinging to each other, afraid to lose what little they have left.

But eventually Cara loosens her hold and carefully pulls away, far enough to finally meet Din’s imploring gaze, but still close enough to share breath with him.

Looking down at her, Din can see the turmoil filling those obsidian eyes, and he can’t seem to look away.

Ever since their first meeting on Sorgan, he learned quickly that her eyes always gave her away. She can hide and bottle her emotions with the best of them, put on a smile and charm her way through nearly anything. But he knows her far better than that; has witnessed lightning storms rage in those eyes, caught the small shining glint when she’s up to no good, and most of all, seen the softness and adoration she saves for him and the baby.

This kind of fear and trepidation he sees in them now are new, and he doesn’t know what to do.

Lifting a hand, she lightly strokes the stubble along his jawline, her eyes breaking contact with his to follow the slow movement.

After a deep inhale and a lick of her lips, Cara finally finds her voice.

“You nearly died,” she breathes.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she continues, “The kid and I had to watch you bleed out on the ground. I felt you slipping away in my hands; you were dying and there was nothing I could do to help you. If IG hadn’t been there, you wouldn’t have made it.”

Her fingers make their way to his lips as she pauses, tracing the flesh for just a moment. Then she places her hands on his chest, her eyes focusing on the steady rise and fall.

“I’ve lost so many people during the war, all because of the Empire. Each time I had to push on, complete the mission for the sake of a peace we were all hoping to see at the end. But you… I saw you lying there, and I just froze, so scared out of my damned mind that I didn’t know what to do.

I – I would’ve died there with you, you know. The thought of abandoning you while I run away…it’s just…” Cara lowers her face as she trails off, and he can feel each measured exhale on his sensitive skin, “I understand why you did what you did, I do. And you know I would’ve done the same if it were me lying there instead. We made a promise to protect him, and we will, but… I can’t lose you, Din. Don’t make me watch you die, too,” she quietly confesses.

Din feels like he’s drowning, the ache in his chest growing heavier by the second. He can hardly breathe as his mind conjures up images of his ex-shock trooper, broken and bloody and alone on that decimated cantina floor as stormtroopers raze the building, killing her on their way to take his son.

Could he have done it? Leave someone he loves to die in order to save the life of another? So many people have already paid the price for his mistakes, and the thought of _her_ suffering so cruelly for his sins nearly makes him sick to his stomach.

He can only imagine the fear that gripped her as she and the Child watched him grow weaker by the second. His guilt mounting even higher at the memory of nearly asking IG-11 to kill him, to put him out of his misery instead of fighting back against the Imperials. Thankfully it never came to that, for Din to ask for death or to die in a vain attempt at holding off a group of stormtroppers when he was barely able to grip his blaster.

Turning his head, Din presses his cheek into her hair and tightens his hold on her, gathering himself for what he’s about to say.

The Mandalorian, for his fearsome reputation of renowned strength and skill, can barely recognize his own voice when he hoarsely whispers to the woman in his arms, “I never wanted to hurt you. I – I’m so sorry, Cara. I’m so sorry. Please understand that it wasn’t a decision I made lightly, but if I had to do it again, to make sure you two would be ok, I would.”

“I know you would. I know,” she whispers back.

“You and the baby, you two mean so much to me. I know that if it had been you, you would do the same for me, for him, and it hurts so much to think of. I hope that it never comes to that. I – I want us to be together, for as long as we can, you, me, and the little one. When I asked you to join us back on Sorgan all those months ago, I never imagined that this could happen. I’m _happy_ when I’m with you.”

He feels Cara lift her head from his chest and straighten, the raven-haired woman nearly in tears once more.

Wrapping one arm around Din’s neck, she reaches with the other, hand tangling in his hair and fingers curling. She places a lingering kiss to his cheek before pulling him close, resting his head in the crook of her neck.

With a trembling voice, she breathes in his ear, “Din… I love you.”

Both of his hands grip Cara’s shirt, the fabric bunching and stretching with the intensity.

Closing his eyes at her words, Din takes everything in - her scent, the feel of her skin, the delicate but firm way she cradles him. He let the sensations wash over him like a gentle wave, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe he can do right by her.

Din places a chaste kiss the thin skin of her neck, right at her pulse before lifting his head to meet her gaze.

Her eyes are clearer now, and he sees the determination and resolve and _love_ that gives him the strength to be honest with her now.

The Mandalorian smiles softly at her, a tiny quirk at the corner of his lips that hints at the dimples he knows she’s so fond of teasing him about.

Finding his voice, Din begins, “I don’t know if I can say that I’m different since I’ve met you. I guess maybe, I feel even more myself, if that makes any sense. What you are to me, it – it’s measured in ways that I can’t explain. You deserve so much more than I can ever give you, I know that. But everything I am, everything I have, it’s yours.”

Carefully trailing the back of his fingers down her cheek, Din repeats shakily, “It’s all _yours_ , Cara. Everything.”

He watches breathlessly as Cara grasps his hand and brings it to her lips before shaking her head lightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Din. Just you, that’s all I need,” she replies truthfully.

Standing silently, he lets her words sink in. Then Din rests his head to hers in a gesture they’ve shared countless times before, but now, now it’s shared between two people in love, baring their souls to one another, hoping to keep what little pieces of happiness they’ve built together.

With a curled finger under Cara’s chin, he tilts her face up, capturing her soft lips with his, slowly and gently moving against the pliant flesh. He can taste the salt of her tears, wishing that he could simply take all her pain away like this. Din feels more than hears her gasp when he begins to deepen their kiss, his tongue stroking her bottom lip, asking for entrance. The moment their tongues meet, it sends shivers down his spine, and any previous thoughts or worries of his injuries are forgotten. Her hands trail down his back before settling on his hips, her fingers teasing the sensitive skin along the top of his underwear.

\----

The back of Cara’s knees hit the edge of their bunk as Din briefly pulls away to fiddle with control panel on the outer wall, setting the ship to its night cycle and double checking that the little one was still asleep.

Lying on their bunk with her elbows propped, she watches as Din closes the door and dims the lights, casting them in a soft orange glow.

She can feel her heart pounding in her chest as Din climbs into their bunk and easily crawls over her. He hovers above the raven-haired woman, and Cara can see how his eyes take in her features, the flushed skin from the building arousal, her slightly parted kiss swollen lips, and the dark tresses framing her like a halo.

In truth, she’ll never tire of him gazing upon her like this, as if always in awe and wonder and elation at the sight before him.

What she ever did in her life to deserve this man will forever be a mystery, but she knows that the love she sees is reflecting back at him just as strongly.

Balancing on one arm, he traces her lips with a thumb, reveling in the smooth and soft flesh. Just as Din is about to withdraw his hand, Cara’s tongue teasingly swipes at his fingertip. The Mandalorian’s eyes darken as he watches the woman beneath him carefully nibble on the skin. Encouraged by his reaction, she then pulls the digit into her mouth, her tongue caressing him slowly before sucking gently.

Above her, she sees Din’s jaw clenching from the sight, sees the muscles in his neck tense as his anticipation for her rises. With a wet ‘pop’, Cara lets him slip from her mouth, and she wraps her arms around his neck to pull him down in a deep kiss. The ex-trooper feels Din finally settle his hips between her spread legs, and she whimpers into his mouth when he begins to grind his clothed hardness into the soaking patch of her underwear, the friction sending shocks of pleasure up Cara’s spine.

Din’s mouth moves along her jaw, his tongue and lips leaving behind a hot trail before finding her neck and sucking hard at her thundering pulse. Her back arches at the combined sensations, the hard peaks of her nipples covered by her shirt rub against his bare chest, adding to her pleasure as she grinds back hard against his swollen length, continuing to soak their underwear in her liquid arousal. At the hard thrust against her sex, Cara nearly chokes, his blunt head pressing into sensitive bundle of nerves, setting her ablaze.

Slowing his movements, Din returns to her in a slow tender kiss that floods her chest with an indescribable warmth. She’s so overwhelmed by the sudden change of pace she nearly misses the words he mumbles against her lips.

“Cara… let me take care you,” he whispers breathlessly to the woman beneath him, “Let me take care of you this time.”

Pulling back, Din kneels between Cara’s legs, his chest visibly rising and falling with each deep breath he takes. He reaches for the bottom of her shirt, and together they help each other remove the last of their barriers, tossing their clothes aside without a second thought. Lying on her back with Din between her knees, Cara gazes at him with hooded eyes as he quietly runs his hands up and down her inner thighs.

The sight of him bathed in a soft orange light nearly brings the ex-soldier to tears.

The invincible bright silver beskar outer shell he wears with such honor and pride is such a stark contrast to this person underneath. She can see the soft lines of his battle-scarred body, the years of constant training and hunting carving him into the man he is now, the man she loves. But he wasn’t invincible, far from it. He _bleeds_ and _hurts_ like her - like everyone else - and just like everyone else, he can _die_.

Back in the cantina, when his blood pooled as the fires grew around them, he glowed orange then, too.

As if sensing her inner turmoil, Din covers her body with his, quickly molding his lips to hers, dispelling the broken image from her mind.

“I’m here, Cara… I’m here,” he gasps between their kisses.

Breaking away, he rests his forehead to hers as they try to slow the pounding in their chests.

Tangling her hands in his nape, she tells him again, “I love you.”

She can feel his broad smile when he replies, “I know.”

Wordlessly, Din pulls back slightly, balancing his weight on one arm to look down at her. He trails her fingertips down Cara’s face and neck, all the way down to her breasts with a featherlight touch that sends shivers down her spine. His finger traces the darker skin of her areola in tantalizing circles before finally resting his hand on her and kneading the flesh. She can feel her hardened nipple rubbing against his palm as his fingers squeeze and massage her gently. The next thing she knows, the flat of Din’s tongue is swiping at her other nipple, licking and teasing the tight peak as he grinds his swollen member on her inner thigh.

Cara throws her head back with a heady moan when Din finally takes her breast between his lips, his wet, hot mouth making her eyes roll back in ecstasy. She can feel his slick hardness at the crease of her thigh, and her soaking core tightens at the thought of him leaking onto her scorching skin. The hand at her breast makes its way down her middle, and she can feel his fingers on her outer lips before one dips into her saturated entrance, not fully penetrating her, but teasingly, gathering her moisture on the tip of his finger and dragging it up her slit to rub against her swollen nub.

Din releases her breast with a small groan, and she can feel his eyes watching her face contort in pleasure as he teases her clit, expertly spreading her silky essence with the slightest of touches. She’s so wet, her scent permeating the air around them, her fluid pooling and staining their bunk.

Shifting his weight, Din steadies himself, using the hand previously at her center, he strokes his leaking member and places the head at Cara’s entrance. She spreads her legs wider as Din moves to lie on top of her again, pushing into her carefully.

Cara sees Din hovering over her, his weight resting on his forearms on either side of her head. Her stomach clenches when she feels him slowly push past the tight ring of muscles, the feeling of his thick girth stretching and filling her sends electric shocks throughout her body. Moments later he stills within her, his tense hips flush against hers, and Cara hides her face in crook of his neck as she throbs, adjusting to him.

No matter how many times they’ve been together like this, it never ceases to amaze her how good Din can her feel each and every time. Wrapping her legs around his hips, she begins to grind against him, silently urging him move. The puff of his hot breath and groans sound in her ear and he starts to shallowly thrust within her, gently letting her grow more comfortable.

Cara’s arms travel along the smooth expanse of his back as she attaches her lips to his neck, tasting the salt of his sweat on her tongue. Arching his head to allow her more access, his movements grow bolder, pulling his hips back slowly until just his tip remained in her and then plunging back in powerful strokes. She’s nearly dizzy with the building ecstasy, the alternating dual sensations of the slower drag of his hardness as he pulls out then swiftly pushes back in leaves her body quaking for more. But Din keeps his pace, the wet slapping sounds echoing throughout the room spurring him on.

Somehow during the waves of electricity, Cara manages to open her eyes, and what she sees takes her breath away.

Din is watching her through half-lidded eyes filled with so much love she can drown in his dark irises. He’s memorizing every little bit of her he can see, his face tense and flushed in concentration as he watches his lover unravel, focusing solely on her pleasure.

Cupping his face in her hands, she brings him into a warm kiss, the action catching him off guard making his hips stutter.

Tearing his lips away abruptly, Din’s hoarse voice murmurs brokenly into Cara’s cheek, “God, I need you so much. Cara, I…”

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tightening her legs higher on his waist, Cara takes him even deeper, feels him fill her with each thrust, her drenched sex contracting and gushing with the added sensations. Finding his hand, she laces her fingers through his, intertwining them and squeezing with all her strength.

_Let go, be here with me._

Din lets out a strangled sob the moment he feels her cling to him. He places his other hand at her lower back, tilting her hips, allowing him to brush against that special spot within her that makes her fall apart.

“Din I – I’m close!” Cara rasps, her back arching, pushing against him even further.

His hips move erratically with his impending orgasm, each push and pull bringing them closer to the edge.

He doesn’t know where he ends, and she begins. They’re so tightly bound together in every way - their bodies, hearts, and souls - that if the Mandalorian believed in destiny, he would believe that they were always meant to find each other on that backwater skughole.

Cara is the first to come undone, her body pulsating and singing in such ecstasy she sees stars as her muffled cries reverberate in Din’s neck, each snap of his hips lengthening her orgasm, hitting that spot within her. She’s suddenly aware of how much louder the wet noises between them has become, and how now all she feels is Din, within her, around her, so attuned to him that every breath he takes is hers as well.

The hot gush of Cara’s come and hard contractions set every single nerve ending on fire. He squeezes her hand even tighter as his hips push her into the bunk with each stroke. Shutting his eyes, Din buries his face in her hair when he reaches his peak, body stiffening as his throbbing member fills Cara with his thick seed, twitching in pleasure with each spurt until he was spent.

\----

Lying on top of her, Din’s body and mind are so exhausted from the day’s events that he barely has the strength to pull out of her and roll onto his back.

His body sated, he can feel himself being pulled into unconsciousness, but Din resists as much as he can. With half-lidded eyes, he turns to the person beside him. He sees that she too is losing the fight to sleep, her eyes fluttering tiredly. Rolling onto his good side, Din ignores the dull ache in his ribs and drapes an arm over Cara’s stomach, scooting closer to the woman he loves.

With some effort, she turns and faces him. He has one arm curled under his pillow supporting his head as he tightens his arm around her waist and takes one of her legs between his. Cara tucks her arm beneath her pillow, meeting Din’s sleepy but earnest eyes, and she wonders if the shine she sees in them is a trick of the light.

His voice _cracks_ with barely restrained emotion, “Stay with me?” he asks.

Raising her fingers to stroke his jaw, her eyes soften at the man before her.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very angsty filled chapter, but nothing our heroes can't conquer, right? Right?
> 
> One more chapter to go, and hopefully I can get that done faster since the school session ends in a week and a half. Trust me, I want this to be concluded just as much as everyone else. 😂
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, and let me know what you think!


	3. You Are Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din trails behind after Cara and the little one, letting the baby lead the way to satiate his curiosity and sense of adventure while the Mandalorian watches the rear. He supposes a day relaxing planetside isn’t such a bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the grand finale! It's taken me a lot longer than originally anticipated, but as some of you can see (here on ao3 and tumblr), I've stumbled into other forms of showing my love for these two idiots and their space family. 😆

The day is beautiful as they traverse through the woodland path. This planet’s sun shines bright with clouds floating by at a leisurely pace, creating oddly shaped shadows on the ground.

Din trails behind after Cara and the little one, letting the baby lead the way to satiate his curiosity and sense of adventure while the Mandalorian watches the rear. He supposes a day relaxing planetside isn’t such a bad idea. They’ve been cooped up on the ship for nearly four days now and the Child was making a fuss, letting out an angry cry whenever Din would fly past any planet visible in the viewport instead of landing.

They could only take so much of the baby’s tantrums.

Cara’s laugh pulls Din back from his slight reverie. He notices that they’ve gone off the path and are giggling at something along the edge of the stream.

Ensuring the child’s floating carrier is still next to him, repurposed from an old rifle case and currently carrying their lunch, he makes his way to join his companions.

The sight that greets him is one that he’ll cherish for the rest of his life.

His troublesome duo is playing in the water. The shallow stream allows the boy to stand on his own while Cara crouches next to him, a steady hand on his back as he tries in vain to catch any of the small fish swimming close by with his claws. Despite the failure to capture his prey, the green child laughs with each attempt, the water splashing as he kicks his feet when something jumps out at him.

Their giggles and squeals are infectious, Cara’s shoulders shake with her laughter and Din finds himself chuckling quietly as he watches from afar, not quite ready to disturb their fun as he takes it all in.

It’s only early afternoon, but the sun filtering through the clouds bathes the two in a warm light that almost takes his breath away.

From the short distance Din can see the brown irises in the boy’s big dark eyes. Normally they appear jet black, but right now he can clearly make out the subtle color and the way the corner of his eyes crinkle when he’s immersed in fun and just… _happy_. It seems the little bogwing is most joyful when surrounded by the greens, blues, and browns of nature, that much he knows, their time on Sorgan an obvious indicator, but to freely experience it when it’s just the three of them…

Din silently promises to make these outings a more regular occurrence.

With a slight tilt of his head he’s observing Cara. All these months together, and the sight of her still fills his stomach with butterflies. Her hair is longer than when they departed Sorgan, reaching just past her shoulders now, her clothes and armor have seen better days, but everything pales in comparison to how carefree and gorgeous she is in this moment. She’s laughing so wholeheartedly with the baby, as if playing in a stream of another nameless planet was something that happened every day. Using her free hand, she carefully flicks some water towards the boy, making him chirp and kick his feet at her in excitement.

Carefully, she guides him deeper into the stream, and while just barely past mid-calf for her, the water is nearly up to the boy’s chest. He doesn’t hesitate to flail his arms and legs wildly, trusting Cara to keep him afloat and safe while he continues to splash in the crystal-clear water.

It hits him all at once, the domesticity of it all, how this scene along with the warmth in his chest, their smiles, and laughter… this could be his life.

Their lives, together and happy.

A _family_.

Din imagines it, and once the images begin, he can’t stop them.

He doesn’t want to.

\----

A modest house is nestled in the woods near the mouth of a lake where the it meets the river, a snowy mountain range in the background.

He and the boy are sitting out at the lakeshore, fishing rods in hand as Din calmly explains the mechanisms and motions of the rod and reel. The little one is enraptured with Din’s voice, slowly following as best as he can with his finger placements and grip. A small laugh escapes Din’s lips as the Child lets out a frustrated sound, unable to firmly grasp both the rod and reel together. Carefully, adjusting the his hands, they find a suitable compromise and long green ears twitch happily at the accomplishment.

The sound of leaves and rocks crunching makes Din turn, and he sees Cara approaching from the direction of the house, their ginger colored loth-cat perching on her shoulder. Once she reaches them, she gives Din a quick peck to his lips in greeting while running a hand through his wind tousled hair. Taking a seat on the opposite side of the kid, she places a chaste kiss to his fuzzy, wrinkly head before settling in, retrieving a small wooden block and knife from her pack. Out of the corner of her eye, Cara watches with a smile as they continue their fishing lesson, the cat curling around the green boy with a loud purr, while she carefully chips away at the piece of timber in her hand.

\----

“-in! Din!”

The sound of Cara’s voice pulls the Mandalorian from his daydream, and he shakes his head lightly to try and dispel the fantasy from his mind.

Standing up straighter, he looks to Cara who’s waving an arm, trying to get his attention from the stream.

“Din come on! Hurry up you slow poke, you’re missing all the fun!” she exclaims with a huge grin on her face.

The baby’s robes are soaked, but that doesn’t deter him from almost plopping face first into the stream, eager to catch the tiny shadows swimming around him.

Climbing down the rest of the slope, Din makes his way towards the duo. Stopping just shy of water he hesitates, the scenes of his fantasy flashing through his mind, his helmetless face in the sun, free of restraints… just them.

Without thinking, gloved hands grip the sides of his beskar helmet and lift the metal from its resting place. Din blinks and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, adjusting to the bright sun shining down through the trees. Carefully turning the metal in his hands, he looks into the visor and sees his own smiling face in the reflection.

This… this is the Way.

This is _his_ Way.

Placing the beskar in the floating carrier atop their lunches, Din wades into the water and kneels on the other side of the flailing child, placing his hands over Cara’s, steadying the boy between them.

Din watches patiently as Cara looks up from the stream, and her jaw drops while her eyes widen in shock. Instead of seeing the familiar silver, she sees slightly tan skin, a mop of dark hair with curls at the end, and softest brown eyes gazing back at her. He sees her flicker through the shock of surprise as she realizes what he’s done. It takes a moment for her eyes to move down and see Din’s lips are curved upwards in a smile, and she finally puts all the pieces together. That this is the face of the man she crashed down on back on Sorgan so long ago, the face she only knows in the dark through the touch of her lips and hands.

Truth be told, Din wasn’t sure how she would react. Cara made it clear as soon as she learned of how much the Creed meant to him, that seeing his face wasn’t important, and she only reaffirmed that once they began their relationship. Each time he doubted himself and his choices she would rest her head to his and tell him it was ok, that the strength of his character and heart were what mattered.

Her gaze returns to his eyes, and Din’s face brightens at the blush growing on her cheeks.

He knows he’s good looking and easy on the eyes, but to see the woman he _loves_ blush at the sight his face for the first time, Din couldn’t help the little swell of pride in him.

Neither noticed that the baby had stopped playing once Din joined them in the water, and a quiet coo catches their attention.

The Child is looking up at Din with curiosity and hesitation. Carefully lifting his soaking green ward, the Mandalorian holds the baby to his chest, and tiny hands reach up to touch his newly revealed face. For the little one, the helmet is all he’s known, and Din imagines it might be confusing to merge these two identities.

Speaking softly, “It’s ok, kid. It’s just me,” he assures him.

Long green ears perk up at the familiar voice, and then his face breaks into a full-fledged grin, those large eyes crinkling with laughter as green hands repeatedly pat Din’s cheeks in joy.

Walking back to the nearby patch of grass Cara and Din sit, and together relieve the Child of his wet robes to hang the dripping garment on a nearby branch to dry.

Settling the baby in her lap, Cara brings one hand to cup Din’s face, her thumb caressing the top curve of his cheek. It’s a new level of intimacy for them, being able to freely see one other’s faces in the light, to look into each other’s eyes.

Cara’s blush is back, and the Mandalorian smirks knowingly at her, the action painting her cheeks an even deeper shade of pink as she rolls her eyes playfully at the man.

The three enjoy a quiet lunch amongst the shade of the trees, and Din relishes in their company. He doesn’t have to take his meal to another room or keep his back to them anymore, he can share this with them now. The Mandalorian can do something as simple as steal a bite from Cara’s sandwich when she isn’t paying attention, just to see the incredulous look on her face when she turns and sees a piece of lettuce dangling from his lips and to see the little one cackle at the ridiculous sight.

Their meal is cut short when the smell of smoke fills the air, and Din immediately dons his helmet, draws his blaster, and keeps an arm outstretched in front of Cara and the kid. The sounds of blasters and shouting are getting closer, but neither can indicate where the threat is coming from.

Suddenly, an explosion sends Din flying through the air, landing squarely on his back.

Cracking open his eyes and pushing past his disorientation, the Mandalorian realizes he’s back on Nevarro.

Shakily rising to his feet, he tries to assess his surroundings as quickly as his swimming vision will allow. There are dead stormtroopers littering the city square with people fleeing to safety towards the other buildings and alleyways. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees IG-11 wearing a backpack, protecting a black and green figure, unmoving on the ground, their back twisted, and legs sprawled awkwardly.

It only takes Din a moment to realize who is lying there.

“Cara?!”

Breaking into a sprint, he rushes to her side, nearly losing his balance with each shot ricocheting off his armor. Crashing to his knees, he carefully turns Cara over onto her back, and shields her from a flurry of incoming fire.

The Mandalorian calls out to IG and Greef, “Let’s go! Cover me! Back inside now!”

With his arms under her shoulders, Din hoists the woman up and half drags, half carries her back into the cantina while IG clears a path and Greef covers their rear.

Once the door is shut and sealed, Din assess Cara’s wounds, and he bites his trembling lip at the extent of the damage. Her armor wasn’t strong enough to withstand the explosion, and the evidence is apparent in the burnt, torn, and bloody flesh of her abdomen. Grabbing a nearby rag, Din presses it to her bleeding wound, and to the Mandalorian’s horror, her blood soaks the fabric, seeping into his gloves and he can feel the stickiness on his fingers as he swallows back the bile rising in his throat.

He’s dimly aware that IG-11 and Greef are trying to clear the grate to the sewers, and the little one is unconscious in his backpack on the ground.

The sound of shouting and movement outside the broken window grow louder with each passing second, and Din knows they need to escape, but he keeps pressing the soaked rag to Cara’s middle, silently praying that he can keep slow the bleeding.

She’s so pale, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, her breathing slow and shallow. But he can’t take his eyes off the trail of crimson leaking from her lips as he tries in vain to search her face for signs of life.

A gasp and hard twitch nearly have Din jumping out of his skin in surprise.

Cara’s face is contorting in pain, her mouth in a tight grimace and eyes squeezed shut to try and push through the disorientation. One of her hands comes up to rest atop his on her abdomen, and Din can’t help the tiny flare of hope.

“Cara? Cara? Can you hear me?” he pleads.

When she doesn’t respond, he leans forward and touches his helmet to her forehead, adopting a softer tone, “Cara, it’s me. It’s Din. Open your eyes, please.”

Din watches with bated breath as she sluggishly opens her eyes. He can see how much effort it takes for her just to lift her head and meet his eyes.

Cara’s eyes try to focus, searching for his eyes through the visor like she’s done so many times before. For a brief moment their eyes connect, and in the back of his mind Din is glad for his helmet, that way she won’t see the tears threatening to fall.

Her head lolls back against the wall, eyes shut again against the pain, and Din looks down at the pool of blood. The bleeding has slowed, and the optimist within him hopes that maybe she’s stabilizing, that the pressure he’s had on her the wound is helping.

But he knows it’s a lie. The practical, logical part of him, the part he’s trying so hard to ignore, knows that the bleeding is slow because what should be pumping strong and steady in her veins is half on the floor, spilling through his fingers, and her body is losing the fight to stay alive.

Greef calls out to him from his cover behind a table, “Mando! IG is almost done cutting the grate, as soon as it’s done, we need to get the hell out of here! We – Oh, no…” his voice trailing off once he catches sight of Cara.

“Just – just give us some cover. I can carry her out of here. The droid can keep the kid safe while I take care of her. We’re not leaving her. I can’t. I won’t,” the Mandalorian says adamantly.

Cara’s hand squeezes his with what little energy she has, the action a mere curl of her fingers over Din’s hand, but it was enough to get his attention.

“Cara? What is it?” he asks desperately.

Tilting her head towards Greef’s direction, she tells him desperately, “Go. Take him and go. Keep – keep him safe,” she whispers brokenly through her tears, “We promised.”

“I can take care of you! Both of you! We just need to get back to the ship and –“

“I’m not going to make it,” she huffs bitterly, “Din, I – I can’t feel my legs. I can try and hold them off, but you need to go. Hurry!” Grunting, she shakily retrieves her blaster from its holster and sets the weapon in her lap, finger poised on the trigger, the action more a feat of willpower than the dwindling physical strength she has left. Pushing the hands on her abdomen away, she murmurs, “Take care of our boy, ok?”

Din shatters at her words.

Our boy.

 _Our_ _boy._

The Mandalorian barely recognizes that the baby is now in his arms, and that someone is dragging him away towards the grate at the wall. The further he’s pulled, the smaller Cara becomes, and just as Din falls through the entrance to sewers, blaster fire rings throughout the cantina, echoing in his ears.

He doesn’t have the chance to call her name when he somehow finds himself falling on his back again, arms wrapping inwards to protect the child.

His breath is knocked from his lungs with the force of the landing, momentarily blinding him.

But Din quickly comes back to himself and finds his arms empty, the boy nowhere in sight.

A shadow of movement from the corner of his eye alerts him to another’s presence. Scrambling to his feet, the Mandalorian draws his blaster, and suddenly everything comes into crystal clear focus.

His quivering hand drops the blaster, the weapon tumbling onto the concrete in a series of loud _clanks_.

The bodies of the Covert litter the ground, dead at his feet.

Over a dozen fully armored Mandalorians lie motionless, the smell of smoke and burnt flesh invading his nostrils and nearly making Din gag. Wide eyes frantically search for any signs of life amongst the cold stares of metal visors staring back, but there’s none to be found.

It’s so quiet, too quiet.

Din’s shallow breath echoes in his helmet, his heart pounding so hard he can’t think straight.

Normally this part of the sewers was bustling with activity: the foundlings’ laughter as they run amok under the adults’ watchful eyes, the conversations, and even training as the next generation of his proud people grew and matured.

They’re all gone now.

Everyone is _dead._

Then the sound of a familiar cry cuts through the deafening silence, and Din’s heart stops.

Lifting his head, almost as if they’ve materialized out thin air, he sees the baby strapped to table with a probe droid hovering close by.

Too close.

Next to them is Gideon, arms folding neatly behind the small of his back, a proud and satisfied smirk stretching across his face with the acquisition of his prize.

A horrible and loud drilling noise erupts from the droid as a long needle inches closer and closer to the Child, his fearful cries of agony filling Din with inescapable dread. The boy’s big dark eyes meet his, and the Mandalorian is frozen, watching helplessly as his son pleads and cries and cries.

It’s as if his body won’t obey his commands, his mind is screaming, yelling to move, to save him.

This little green baby is all he has left now. Everyone he cares about; everyone he loves is dead.

But it seems Din is destined to lose him too - to fail him like he did with Kuiil, the Covert… with Cara.

His vision fills with tears as he watches the probe. The boy’s cries for help growing louder and louder, the needle about to make contact…

\----

Din’s eyes fly open, the sight of a grey metallic wall illuminated in a dim light sending his already disoriented and panicked mind into even more confusion.

His entire body is stiff, every muscle tense and poised to attack when all he wants to do is crumble.

The images of Cara’s torn and bloody body flash before his eyes, the echo of blaster fire, the Covert, the Child…

He doesn’t realize it’s becoming more difficult to breathe with each passing second until a hand softly touches his shoulder, startling him with a gasp. His body moves of its own accord, and Din’s back slams against the wall, sheets tangling in his legs as his eyes dart all over the small room.

When his eyes finally settle on the blurry figure with dark hair, Din realizes that he’s aboard his ship in the bunk he shares with Cara.

She’s _alive_ , Cara is alive.

Sitting at the opposite wall, the woman is studying him, her brow knotted in concern and hands clutching the sheets pooled in her lap. Her hair is disheveled and she’s wearing one of his shirts, the collar lopsided and a bit frayed from age, but soft enough to sleep in.

Din rubs his eyes, hoping to chase away the remaining confusion, but instead finds his trembling hands damp with moisture.

Had he been crying in his sleep? During his dream?

His _nightmare._

Lifting his head to meet Cara’s eyes, he can’t hide the turmoil and sadness in his voice.

“Ca – Cara? What happened? Did – did I hurt you?” he asks, body slumping against the metal, the cool surface offering a small reprieve to his sweat slicked skin.

She carefully shakes her head in the negative, and Din releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Raking his fingers through his hair, he tries to offer her a smile, some indication that he was ok, but the corners of his lips falter with a stuttering inhale. Cara crawls closer, but still keeps her distance. She warily places a hand on his knee and squeezes, offering her silent support. Her thumb gently moving back and forth on him, the gesture, even through the damp sheet, begins to calm Din’s scrambled senses.

“Din? Are you… How are you feeling?” she implores patiently.

He opens his mouth to respond, the words ‘I’m fine,’ on the tip of his tongue, but they refuse to move past his lips.

Because he isn’t fine, he isn’t ok.

Everything feels like it’s crashing down on him, and he doesn’t know how to handle this.

Gripping the hand on his knee, he asks, “Can I hold you?”

Wordlessly, Cara shifts the sheets aside and Din shivers at cool air, the sweat slowly drying on his naked body. Carefully straddling his lap, the rebel trooper replaces the sheet around them, draping the fabric loosely around their hips. Din’s hands find their place on Cara’s bare thighs beneath the sheet and cranes his neck to look at her. She cradles his face between her hands and rests her forehead to his, thumbs lovingly stroking his cheeks.

“I love you,” she whispers.

Swallowing hard, Din covers her hands with his own and touches his lips to hers, not in a kiss of passion or longing, but one of comfort and reassurance, for him or her, he didn’t know. Pulling back slightly, Cara presses a long kiss to Din’s forehead, then softly to his closed eyes, then his cheeks before returning to his lips briefly.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Din shuts his eyes and rests his forehead in the crook of her neck. Nuzzling the exposed skin, he breathes her in, her natural subtly sweet scent, the traces of himself still lingering on her shirt, and even the distinct musk of sex from earlier.

This is real, this woman in his arms is alive and well, not the figment of his nightmare he left to die because of his failures.

But he can’t shake the feeling of foreboding. This wasn’t like his other nightmares, memories of a past he couldn’t change.

He’ll do anything in his power to make sure that dream never becomes a reality, to fail the last two people in his life he still has left.

Because he doesn’t think he’ll survive if he loses them, too.

Din melts even deeper into Cara’s embrace, the fingers combing through his hair soothing his nerves and lulling his aching body into a feeling of safety and warmth only she can give him.

Kissing the shell of his ear, Cara whispers delicately, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I… I don’t know if I can,” he answers honestly. Replaying the scenes in his mind already leaves his heart heavy in his chest, but to try and describe them to her…

Din can already feel the sting of tears.

Sighing into her skin, “I’m sorry if I woke you. I didn’t mean to.”

“I’ve told you before, you don’t need to apologize for nightmares. We’ve both been through too much, seen too much, to be sorry for things like that,” she murmurs adamantly.

Unable to answer, Din simply nods, a tiny movement of his head, but Cara understands loud and clear. They’ve had this conversation a few times before, but one of them always seems to utter the words in one way or another. Given yesterday’s events, it doesn’t surprise her that he’s having nightmares. After everything they’ve confessed to each other, there’s more at stake now, more to lose.

Burying her face into Din’s mop of hair, Cara tells him, “I woke up to use the fresher and check on the kid, he was a little fussy in his sleep, so I changed him out of his robes so he’d be more comfortable. Went up to the cockpit to check on how much time we have remaining until we drop out of hyperspace. By now we should have roughly 12 hours, so we still have plenty of time to rest. When I came back to bed, you were twitching a little, I chalked it up to just a normal dream, but then as I was falling asleep again, you… you started crying my name,” she rasps as Din’s arms tighten. “You don’t have to tell me, Din. Whenever you’re ready I’m here to listen. I’m here.”

Din’s silent tears fall onto her skin and shirt, and Cara is at a loss. She tries to comfort him the only way she knows how, combing her fingers through his hair and uttering calming words.

Eventually he finds his voice, and it breaks Cara’s heart, “I’m so tired, Cara. I’m so tired of losing people.”

She doesn’t know how to respond to that, just hours ago their positions were reversed, and she was the one in tears. Cara wants to tell him that she and the little one will always be at his side, no matter what, but she wasn’t one to make empty promises, and neither was he.

But that doesn’t stop them from hoping they’ll have a long happy life together.

“Do you remember the day I showed my face to you and the kid?” he asks.

“Back in that forest where we were playing in the stream? I can never forget that day,” Cara smiles as she remembers that day. Seeing his face wasn’t important to her, it never was, but he removed the helmet that day, as if it was the most natural thing in the galaxy. To see his nervous, but smiling face, it was like everything she didn’t know she wanted, suddenly fell into place.

She would never forget that day as long as she lived, but where was Din going with this?

“I never told you, but that day, when I saw you playing with the baby in the water, so happy and carefree, that – that was when I understood how much I love you,” he confesses quietly, a murmur vibrating on her already sensitive skin.

The Mandalorian’s hands grip Cara tighter as the hand tangled in his hair curls around the back of his neck.

“That’s what I want, more than anything, a life where we don’t have to look over our shoulders all the time, where I can freely laugh with you and the boy, the sun shining down on our faces. Doesn’t – doesn’t that sound nice?” he asks hoarsely.

“It does… it sounds perfect.”

But they both know such a life is nearly impossible. They have so many forces working against them that to stay in one place for too long is already a risk. To settle down, build a permanent home, as much as they ache for that fantasy, it would be too dangerous.

Climbing off Din’s lap, Cara pulls him back down to bed, so they’re lying face to face. Caressing him with one hand, she finds and grips one of his with her other. They weren’t going to find a solution to all of their problems tonight, but maybe they didn’t need to.

Even in the dim light, she can still clearly see his big soulful eyes gazing back at her.

“We don’t know what going to happen, there’s only so much we can do, Din.”

“I know. I – I can’t look at the big picture anymore. What we have to do, what’s out there waiting for us to slip up. It’s too much right now.”

“Let’s just take it one day at a time, ok? But for now, why don’t we get some sleep?”

Sighing, Din agrees, his mind and body demanding peace and rest. He sluggishly leans over and captures Cara’s bottom lip between his, mumbling sleepily, “Love you.”

\----

A dull sensation of something tickling his nose rouses Din from his sleep.

The Mandalorian clumsily scratches his nose before realizing someone is snoring loudly in his face. Cracking an eye open, Din makes out the blurry silhouette of the baby wedged between him and Cara. Rising up to one elbow, he notices that Cara has one arm curled protectively over the little one, her face at the top of his head, white wisps of hair swaying with each of her slow, shallow exhales.

The Child begins suckling on something in his hand, one of his toys probably, and the loud snoring dissolves into muted coos.

Chuckling to himself weakly, Din lies back down and scoots closer to the little green womp rat. One of his hands loosely takes hold of a three clawed foot, thumb stroking the bottom lazily as his eyes drift shut once more.

\----

Hours later, the Mandalorian wakes to an insistent bladder and a rumble in his stomach.

He rolls over onto his back and tries in vain to let sleep take him back, but no avail. With a pained grunt, Din sits up in the bunk, the sheets pooling at his waist. Rubbing his tired eyes, it takes him a few moments to see that he’s alone in the small room, that Cara and the kid are gone and the door is open.

Planting his feet onto the cold metallic floor, Din has half a mind to grab and don his underwear before stepping out into the common area.

The bright light of the galley stuns him for a second, making him sway on his feet before shuffling to Cara and the kid sitting at the makeshift dining table enjoying breakfast. Dropping a quick kiss in greeting to the both of them, along with a sleepy mumble of “G’morning,” he makes his way across the room to the fresher for a much-needed vac tube break.

When he emerges, the pair is still sitting in their respective chairs, Cara feeding the baby dried berries while his long green ears flutter happily.

The sight brings a smile to disheveled man, warming his heart and giving him a greater appreciation for their presence in his life.

Taking a seat, Din finds a steaming cup of caf and a plate filled with hot food, and he can’t contain his bellowing laughter at the two haphazard scoops of scrambled eggs and strips of meat forming a lopsided smiley face.

Looking up to his companions, his cheeks are still tinted pink when he can finally speak again, “This – this is wonderful. Thank you, I love it,” he exclaims, picking up his utensils and digging in.

Green ears twitch in glee at sight of Din’s bare face, his big dark eyes crinkling as he coos in delight.

Polishing off her own breakfast, Cara swallows a mouthful of food, “It was all his idea, he thought you could use some cheering up. He made breakfast and everything. The kid’s a lot more resourceful than he lets on,” she tells him a smirk and wink.

Taking a sip of his caf, Din doesn’t bother to suppress the grin on his face as caresses the boy’s head with his free hand, “Thank you, this is the best I’ve ever had. My favorite breakfast with great company. I…” his voice trails off when he notices something metallic in the boy’s hand, the object a familiar three-pronged shape.

Placing his caf on the table, Din leans over and carefully eases the item from the little one’s grasp. He immediately recognizes his mythosaur pendent, the dark leather strap tied around the baby’s neck, and Din wonders how he didn’t notice this before.

“This is… I didn’t think I’d ever see this again. How did you…” the dots are finally connecting, and Din’s wide-eyed gaze turns to Cara, who’s chewing her bottom lip nervously.

She shrugs her shoulders, “I tied that around his neck after we left you with IG. At the time, I figured if anything, he should have it. If we were able to find the Covert… or rather, if any Mandalorians were able to find him and the rest of us didn’t make it. Well, anything to give him a better chance, you know?”

It made sense, if the Covert or any Mandalorian had found him with the pendant around his neck, there would be no question that this foundling was in need of protection, in need of help.

Shifting back to the baby, Din replaces the pendant in his tiny clawed hand and wraps his green fingers tight around the metal, “Why don’t you keep that?”

The foundling chirps his agreement and brings it to his mouth, suckling on the necklace like he did last night.

Then, it’s as if time stops, something clicks in Din’s head, and he finally knows what he must do, what he’s been wanting to do, but has been holding back. After everything that’s happened within the last few days, just as he’s promised to do right by Cara, Din vows to do what is right by this boy, _his son._

Lifting the Child from his chair, Din cradles him to his chest, and the words he knows by heart, the same that were spoken to him so many years ago, pass through his lips as if they were always destined to be spoken now.

“ _Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad_ ,” Din recites calmly.

A green head tilts to the side in curiosity, and Din reminds himself that this is the first time he’s spoken Mando’a aloud to him.

Touching his forehead to his son’s, Din repeats the phrase, stronger this time, “ _Ni kar'tayl gai sa'ad._ ”

Soft giggles resonate against his chest, and he looks down at his _ad’ika_. All the pain and heartache they’ve suffered since coming together, it’s led up to this point. Silently, Din reaches for his pauldron, the one bearing the mudhorn signet, and his thumb brushes over the raised metal.

Raising his head, he looks to Cara, the love and _pride_ she has adorned on her face as she watches them takes his breath away.

With a warm smile and slight quirk of her lips, “So, a Clan of Two, huh? It looks good on you,” she teases.

Reaching across the table, Din takes hold of her hand, his fingers wrapping around hers tightly. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he asks, “What do you think about a Clan of Three?”

Cara’s brow furrows in confusion, and he watches carefully as she begins to understand what he’s asking of her. Her face shifts from uncertainty to understanding, and finally acceptance.

Adjusting in her seat, Cara leans over and places a hand over Din’s, cradling their _ad’ika_ and nuzzling his fuzzy head before placing her lips to his forehead.

Turning the fingers held in the Mandalorian’s hand, Cara laces them through his, intertwining their hands and gently whispers to Din’s lips, just quiet enough to keep between their little family.

“Three.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap!
> 
> Hopefully this lived up to your expectations and I didn't kill too many of you with this last chapter. This was a tough one to write, angst is my bread and butter, so I have difficulty with happier or fluffier... things...
> 
> I promised myself that I would finish this story before moving on to my other WIPs, and hopefully I can stick to that.
> 
> In addition to my dabbling in photography, I've also rekindled my artistic side and created [fan art](https://flipredmonkey.tumblr.com/archive/tagged/procreate%20for%20ipad) for the ship!
> 
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment! They genuinely brighten my day to know someone likes my work, and it keeps me motivated to write more! Thank you! ❤️
> 
> To everyone who's been with me for this long ride, thank you! I love ya to bits!

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't get the idea out of my head, and in my opinion, both Din and Cara should've been way more beat up from Nevarro with all the stunts they pulled. So this was sort of my way of rectifying that as well as an excuse for some feels.
> 
> Smut planned for the next chapter, you've been warned.
> 
> I promise I'm working on my other WIPs too!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you think!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://www.flipredmonkey.tumblr.com)


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